


The Dragon Lady

by naturallymorbid



Category: The Patriot (2000)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Historical, Historical References, Lust, Lust at First Sight, Master/Servant, Oral Sex, Post-War, Romance, Romani & Travelers, Romani Character, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallymorbid/pseuds/naturallymorbid
Summary: Lavinia always ended up living with one household or another, performing menial tasks until the lady of the house decided that her clearly foreign beauty and mystical upbringing were too much for their delicate constitutions and she was pushed out once more.   She would rejoin the caravan just in time to move on.William Tavington was a shamed man.  While he had not died in the war, he had not won either, despite all of his ruthless planning and further coldblooded actions.   He was not taking his return well. By this time he had hoped to be settled in Ohio with acres of land.  Not back in the place of his birth, hoping for a bit of luck.When Tavington purchases her as an indentured servant, Lavinia does not fall into her role easily.  William sees a spirit that demands to be broken.  But sometimes, things do not go according to plan.  Neither expects to fall in love.
Relationships: William Tavington/Original Character(s), William Tavington/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my files for years (2011/2012), way before I found out about Poldark, though this has a similar story line. I hate that it has been gathering virtual dust when I could share it. So, here we go. The original intention was to write, get feedback, and change enough aspects to maybe have it published with original characters. But, I think I just like it as fan fiction for now. 
> 
> Also, “gypsy” will be used a few times by people outside of Lavinia’s culture, but she is intended to be loosely Romani.

_ This is disgraceful,  _ Lavinia Dracen thought as she was pushed forward onto the rough hewn stage with the other women.  _ Placed up here like animals.  _ She tried to tune out the sounds around her, the smells of the port of Liverpool, the horror of being rounded up. 

She blew a stray dark curl from her face, trying to focus on one person in the crowd, hoping for a familiar face of her family. It was a long shot, considering most of the women on the podium with her were from the same area of “travellers” as the locals referred to them. 

It seemed they had abandoned her to the fate of the city. She had lost them in the melee of caravans. Irate locals had invaded in the middle of the night, setting fire to anything they could catch. 

Lavinia always ended up living with one household or another, performing menial tasks until the lady of the house decided that her clearly foreign beauty and mystical upbringing were too much for their delicate constitutions and she was pushed out once more. She would rejoin the caravan just in time to move on. 

When she was a child, before she had been abandoned temporarily because of her parentage, her grandmother claimed she was cursed. Every day of her life she believed it. 

Shortly afterward her mother had confessed to having relations with an English gentleman by the last name of Dracen, who disappeared mysteriously. Lavinia’s mother was thrown out of the family. Unable to care for Lavinia alone, they were pressed into the service of caring for well-to-do English families, at least until her grandmother forgave her mother. 

Her mother died not a year into this lifestyle change. Lavinia wondered if it was from a broken heart or because her daughter was born under a bad sign. Her grandmother felt sorry for a child being on her own completely. However, she was treated differently by the rest of the family until she was older. 

Without her mother, Lavinia lived a life full of turmoil and menial chores while trying to suppress her wild nature. It always proved too much for her in the end. She could not control her impulses to speak back or disobey forever as the other servants did. Her grandmother was forever reminding her not to cause trouble with whatever locals they happened across. 

She could not tame the feral wind that seemed to blow within her soul either, causing her to grow restless with her surroundings, always on the lookout for a new adventure. Sometimes, she was the direct cause of the sudden moves. Other times, it just seemed that the gods favored her sense of new beginnings. 

Even today, when she had been gathered up like a loose bit of straw, Lavinia could see a possibility of adventure. She had hoped it was for the new world, but she was somehow never that lucky. 

Lavinia had been collected and pressed into a larger group of criminals as possible servitude for the aristocracy and whatever left over peasants could afford them. The crowd looked like all of the others. Farmers, lords and ladies, military personnel. 

Despite all of her protests of just passing through, she was still corralled with the others and held overnight in a cell that stunk of a slow water leak and too many bodies. Lavinia had not rested well, keeping a careful eye on her cellmates, who were small-time criminals hoping for work to pay off debts. 

At least it had not been the debtor’s prison. She had heard real horror stories about what went on behind the cold stone walls there. 

If she could just catch one eye her natural magic would work on its own. She scanned the faces quickly for someone who seemed to stand above the others. 

Just as she started to panic, her eyes lit upon a regal man towards the back of the crowd. She fixed him with her gaze as best she could and hoped whatever forces in the universe that governed her life took pity upon her this one time. 

He was handsome. From the distance, she could see the vestiges of a military uniform. She was unfamiliar with the sort however and wasn’t sure what part of the army he would be. 

That mattered less to her though, as his eyes caught the pale sunshine, flashing a grey-blue like a stormy sea. His long, deep brunette hair was pulled back into a neat queue at the nape, but it looked soft. She had a sudden urge to run her fingers through it. 

As he pushed closer through the building crowd, she could see his fine lips pursed in thought and they looked supple enough to kiss. She quashed the thought immediately. She could imagine a smirk, despite the trouble she was going through to focus on other things. He held himself with an air of wounded dignity. 

From what Lavinia had picked up the last few weeks, it seemed that Britain had lost the war with the new world. Politics mattered little to her, other than background chatter. She was far too concerned with other things, like riding a horse or avoiding deep trouble. 

But there was something special about this man, she knew. Something she had not felt before, although she wasn’t sure what it was. She tried to cross her fingers despite the rope bonds cutting the circulation to her hands. 

However, as he grew all the more closer Lavinia noted that her very appearance seemed to displease him greatly. His nostrils flared as he seemed to single her out, his lips curling cruelly. She made sure to narrow her eyes in retaliation. She wished she could take back her request of the higher powers. 

Lavinia was not coming to him for help! He was in the right market for cheap labor. How dare he look at her as if she were a speck of dust! Something foul on the bottom of his boot!

“Bring her forward,” he requested of the official. With a rough shove, Lavinia found herself propelled toward the edge and nearly losing her balance. As first impressions went, this had to be the most mortifying. 

“Careful, she’s a thief,” the burly official laughed, tossing Lavinia’s bag at the stranger. The very last belongings of her mother were in that bag! Granted they were not worth much in the scheme of things, other than sentimental value. 

“She will need careful surveillance won’t she?” the man smiled, catching it. 

“Aye.” Lavinia hated being referred to on the same level as an object, as if she had no mind of her own. 

“She’ll do,” the stranger said. She was led off the other side as the stranger turned to dispense the proper documents that would indenture her to him


	2. Chapter 2

Colonel William Tavington was a shamed man. While he had not died in the war, he had not won either, despite all of his ruthless planning and further coldblooded actions. He was not taking his return well. 

By this time he had hoped to be settled in Ohio with acres of land. Not back in the place of his birth, hoping for a bit of luck. 

He was wounded in body and spirit, although he was recovering from only one. The Ghost had bested him, no matter how he looked at it. The very thought that his American tormenter had gotten away with the murder of countless numbers of his men, hailed a hero even, made his blood boil. 

Liverpool, however, hailed Tavington as a hero. It mattered very little to his pride none the less. His bank account had not suffered though, especially after he had sold his home in Liverpool to settle Leintwardine, which was south and several days trip by horse and carriage. 

Licking his wounds, he would try to rebuild the life that his father had squandered. He had purchased a lovely estate and intended to make a go of farming. So far it had been successful the last year or two. 

Precisely why he had come to Liverpool today; to try and hire someone to help around the house. Through patience he had managed to find the couple of servants he had known growing up, but it had required more than just their help. 

He had screened and collected a small number of men who would be suitable and agreeable to his requests. This first season they had been positively brilliant. They were all in some sort of debt trouble or another. However, he still lacked enough female help. 

The elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Brown had prodded him enough with her many ailments and general old age that William had felt compelled to hire someone much younger. While many of the girls in the local village would have been delighted to be offered the chance, William felt that they would be too distracted by either his looks or the promise of social standing; even more scandalous would have been a chance at being invited into his bed.

No, he would need someone who was unfamiliar with him totally. 

In a nearby tavern where he was resting for a quick drink, William had overheard talk of “gypsy” women being rounded up today to clean up the city. It seemed they had been squatting on the edge of town for weeks. Finally some men the night before decided to do something about them, burning what they could and rounding up what didn’t leave. 

He inquired about the degree of help these sorts of women offered and found the answer to his liking. They seemed to be social pariahs, dealing in matters of the occult to earn a living and reputations as thieves. 

These particular women were mostly regulars who were being offered to the local population to work off debts they had borrowed or stolen. Perfect. He would be able to find someone there. He liked a challenge, feeling some of the old life flood back into his bones. 

Downing his drink, William hurried outside lest he miss a great opportunity. 

As he surveyed the stage however, he couldn’t help but be disappointed in the findings. These women were exactly the type he should have been looking for; older, sort of dependable, more in line with what the elderly woman at the house requested. 

But William could not deny the foreign feeling creeping up on him as his pale eyes beheld a younger woman standing apart from all of the others. As much as he was watching her, William noticed she seemed to be focused on him. 

While the others around her were comfortably mature with similar tan features, this woman was exotically different, and not just because she was lacking a cap or some sort of head covering. Curly, dark hair flowed around a delicate and slightly lighter face. The eyes that watched him were surprisingly amber instead of dark chocolate, highlighted by dark lashes giving her a wide-eyed appearance. 

Though she was covered in rags and had not appeared to bathe regularly, there was something striking about the way she held herself. A type of defiance he had only seen in spirited young horses. Something that needed to be broken. His lips pulled into a sneer just imagining the possibilities. 

He watched, amused, as she narrowed those almost cat-like eyes as he approached. His blood was pounding with the excitement of such a catch, doubling as he was informed she was a thief. 

While most would probably criticize his use of small time thieves and debtors as manual labor, William did not allow such things to bother him. Most just wanted to work off offending debts, ready to do almost anything. He would be able to handle them. 

After the necessary items were taken care of, William returned to escort her to his carriage. She was still staring at him as defiantly as before. 

“My name is Colonel William Tavington, but you will refer to me as ‘Sir’ or ‘My Lord.” 

Lavinia said nothing, only observing him in a malicious manner. She rubbed her wrists where the rope had begun to dig in after being hauled around all morning. “You will be indentured to me for the next four years, so you might as well provide me with a name by which to call you.” 

She found her throat was perfectly dry. She opened her mouth to speak but no words flowed out. He watched, his smirk growing more prominent by the second. 

“I’m waiting,” he reminded her, delighting in how the wild filly squirmed under his scrutiny. 

“Lavinia,” she told him, the word tasting heavy on her tongue from lack of use. “Lavinia Dracen.” 

“See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” He smiled, but it was cold. She felt an icy chill run up her spine, causing her to flinch slightly. His sharp eyes missed no movement. “As you are guilty of larceny, I’ll have to keep you close.” 

“I never stole anything,” she snapped. It was true, though it seemed to matter little. 

He ‘tsked’ several times before responding: “Insolent too. I will do my best to sort you out. I will not have disobedience,” William told her quietly, although a deadly edge lanced the comforting tone. He gripped her arm, propelling her through the crowd. 

Lavinia knew that it was well within his rights to beat her. She waited for him to duck into an unused alley and flail her, the thought sobering her attitude for the moment. Beatings had been unfortunate in her long and varied career, but not often. The beating didn’t happen however. 

William knew exactly what he was doing by keeping his voice soft. The imaginations of those beneath him tended to be wild. She would contemplate the possibilities of torture he could possibly use against her and that would keep her docile enough to get on the move. Through his black, leather riding gloves William could feel the slim muscles of her arm tense. 

Lavinia allowed herself to be led as a small child would, obeying one’s father. She tried to avoid the condescending looks of the people they passed. However, she couldn’t help but notice that they provided them with a rather wide berth, nodding to the man forcing her along. 

Just how deep she had dug herself in, she wasn’t sure. Lavinia could feel his strength, his commanding nature even without looking at him.  _ Just this one time the gods had to be right, didn’t they?  _

William was glad to be rid of the city. He was certainly growing more irritated with the attention paid to him, whether for his efforts or his failure, depending on the generation. It didn’t matter; attention was still attention at the end of the day. 

He was ready to start the long journey back to his home that he was so carefully constructing. He was even more eager to put his new charge through trials, to watch the spirit eventually drain from her, the wild nature disciplined. Like an uncultivated summer rose crushed with the onslaught of winter.

He glanced down at her dark, uncovered head. Now that he had her, he had to figure out how travel would be. His gut told him that he would have to keep her under his constant supervision, although she didn’t appear to be a petty criminal. 

Those were the worst sort. They lured you in with their big eyes and helplessness. His fiancé, before the war had schooled him well in the art of seduction. Once his father ruined the family finances, the marriage had been called off. 

Last he had heard she was married happily to a former friend with five or six children already. He shook off the impending fury, picking up his pace slightly as if he could out-walk the memories. It wasn’t as if he had actually loved her after all. 

Lavinia had noted the quick change in his demeanor, the pain and anger that flushed his face as he forced her along faster. She wondered fleetingly if she were the cause of it. Her feet were sore from the worn out slippers she had tried in vain to repair. 

“Hurry along,” he told her crossly. 

“I am walking as fast as I can already, given my present state,” she quipped back. He turned a stone cold glare on her. 

“You’re forgetting something, are you not?” Lavinia gave him a long incredulous look, wondering what she could have already forgotten so quickly that she deserved reprimand now. “Hm?” He raised an incredibly well sculpted eyebrow. 

Irritation lanced through her as she gritted out a “Sir.” 

“Much better. Fast learner. Now what situation are you referring to?” She was not easily fooled by the touch of concern. “You are not with child are you?”

“Absolutely not! How dare you insinuate something as that!” Lavinia felt her blood boil. 

“Then what could possibly be the problem for your refusal?” 

“My shoes.” Ignoring social etiquette and morals, she lifted her dress just above her ankles, so that he could see for himself. William chose to ignore her lack of social grace, as his line of sight drew to her shapely ankles. Despite the dust, he could see they were well formed. Her slippers, however, were another matter entirely. 

If she had been a true thief, then she probably would have stolen some better clothing for herself he guessed begrudgingly. What had once been beautiful colored silk slippers were now tattered ruins barely concealing her petite feet or adding height. 

He was surprised by the choice of fabric, given her social status. Perhaps she had stolen them, but clearly not recently. Most in her social strata wore leather or something similar. Not silk. 

Among the grime, William thought he could detect a design of some sort winding above her ankle. The shoes were hardly fit for anything, least of all walking. Servant or not, she couldn’t just venture through the city barefoot either. 

“What do you propose we do?”

“Allow me a few moments rest and I should be able to wrap them enough to continue.” Lavinia said it with such authority that it left William with no room to argue. 

“Alright.” They moved over to the side of the street so that she could rip some of the bottom of a petticoat to wrap around the remains of the shoes. The elderly housekeeper would be able to help her repair them or figure out a more permanent solution. 

If he had to, he could probably find enough spare leather to repair them. But that would only be to keep her working. She would also need suitable clothes in order to fit in with current society, even as a servant. William suddenly felt what an enormous burden this woman already was. 

“Set, My Lord,” she finally told him, even though it seemed like she had taken her precious time. He grunted a non-committal answer as they commenced hurrying through the streets. 

Lavinia wasn’t trying her hardest to keep pace with ‘Sir.’ Her shoes had just been an excuse naturally. Their dilapidated state didn’t bother her as much as it should have. They had been that way for months, her feet already used to difficult and unfriendly terrain. Like the rest of her, they toughened up. 

Despite their appearance, those shoes had been the parting gift of her last sort of caring family however long ago. She had done her best to care for them, but her feet had long outgrown them, breaking the toes out and leaving her to patch them repeatedly. She could have bought another pair, but these held a familiarity she felt was important in her ever changing world. 

Four years. It was beginning to sink in that she would be forced to obey this man for four years. She stole another glance in the weak sunshine. His dashing looks did him no service when one was introduced to his personality. 

Lavinia found herself wondering how many women had fallen for his deceitful face over the years. She was sure his bed never wanted for lovers. He was handsome in the way that dukes were handsome. Nice enough to look at, but never to be tangled with if you were out of their social echelon.

_ And now I am sitting in the dragon’s lair,  _ she thought bitterly to herself. Still, it beat a day on the gallows waiting for the end to come swiftly at the end of a rope. In some places wild spirits such as herself had been hung to make a statement. 

He motioned to an older gentleman standing beside a modest carriage with a pair of silky chestnut horses. She gauged his legacy, deciding that he had enough money to be a minor threat to those above him and would continue to climb. 

William tried to banish any and all thoughts about the creature sloping along next to him or the dirty looks he was receiving. Let them talk. It was difficult enough not to feel her energy through his grip. 

He told himself that he was doing it for her protection as well as his, that if he let go of her one second she would vanish like smoke. 

“Alden this is Miss Dracen,” William said upon their approach. “Miss Dracen, this is Alden.” The old man just nodded kindly, wisps of his white hair moving with the slight breeze. He had made an effort to tame them into a sort of queue, held with a fraying black ribbon. His eyes were benevolent as he apprised the woman that was to travel back with them. 

“Very good sir, me wife will appreciate the help.” He also wondered if his wife would be able to keep a handle on what was sure to be a difficult young woman. If not, Master Tavington would, but he would do it his way. Alden was not fond of Tavington’s ways when it came to women folk. 

“Get in,” he told her gruffly, all but lifting her into the interior. It was dark and Lavinia fell forward into the seat. The carriage was small enough there was just one side, more like a cab. She stifled her groan. The entire trip she would be forced to sit beside him, having him watch her like a hawk. 

She had just barely settled her raggedy skirts and petticoats before he climbed in behind her, some part of his body touching her every few seconds as he tried to get comfortable. He rapped on the roof several times to indicate that they would be off. 

Lavinia was unsure of what to say, so she held her tongue hoping for anything to distract herself. Her tongue was very heavy indeed, when it was forced behind her teeth out of politeness. It was going to be the longest trip she had ever made in a carriage, let alone with someone she hardly knew. Little did she know that beside her, William was hoping for much the same. 


End file.
